Page 8 of Flanders’ Folly (The Curse of Clan Ross #7)

8

NEVER PISS OFF A VIKING

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R obert didn’t like the look in Flanders’ eyes.

The great Viking was mad with vengeance, that silver-blue stare burning through anyone in his line of sight. Robert had never seen him like this, not even when Heslington’s full treachery had been dragged into the light. That had been mere anger, but this? This was something else. Something deeper. Something dangerous. Something James had warned against.

Robert squared his shoulders and stepped into Flanders’ path just as the man would have quit the room. Flanders halted, his nostrils flaring, but Robert met his gaze and kept his voice level. “Ye call the counsel to tell us to sit on our heels and wait for bad news?”

Flanders didn’t blink. “I mean to see him suffer…as she suffered.”

Robert exhaled sharply. De-escalating the situation would be no easy thing, but he had to get Flanders to explain better. “We ken well that The Bruce forbade the burning of witches. Aye, but The Bruce is dead, Flanders.” He let that truth settle between them. “And we’ve yet to see how Moray will rule on this matter. In this delicate time, I cannot see anyone with wisdom believing that one witch was worth taking up arms.”

"Then be satisfied that it is worth it to me." Flanders moved to step past him, but Robert shifted, blocking the way again.

This was no passing fury. No convenient excuse for a long-overdue battle, and he needed the man to admit it before he flew off to kill the neighbor and perhaps cause another war in truth.

“Flanders, stop.” Robert narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t just about Stephan killing a woman, is it?”

For the first time, Flanders blinked, perhaps finally seeing past the bloodlust. A fraction of a breath. A flicker of pain in his gaze. But Robert saw it. And that was all the confirmation he needed.

“Aye,” Robert muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought as much. This woman was yers, then? Not some witch?”

Flanders cursed under his breath and tried to step around him again, but Robert caught his arm and lowered his voice. “I will hear the truth from ye, in case this is the last time we ever speak.”

Flanders stiffened, but Robert refused to release him. For a long moment, Robert thought he’d lost his friend completely to madness. Then, with a rough exhale, Flanders gave a nod and led Robert into the spiral stairwell.

In the still shadows, the Viking told him an impossible tale about meeting witches in Gallabrae’s forest on Mabon, about growing plants in a matter of minutes and speaking without words. If the tale would have come from any other man, Robert would have him removed from Todlaw. But then his friend revealed the first time he’d met Muir witches, and how James Duncan, his foster brother, had really left Scotland, by disappearing in the blink of an eye.

A laugh escaped Robert, unintended. “James, James. Auch, but what ye say makes sense of so many things from my childhood, if he’d truly come from another time. And perhaps he’d confided in the king as well. Trust my brother to leave Scotland in the only sure way he could never return. And all for a woman.” He shrugged. “Love makes many a man give up all he holds dear. I assume it is the same for ye, brother .”

Flanders nodded. “Aye. Only I am too late.”

Robert dragged a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “Why in hell didn’t ye tell me she was yers from the start? If Stephan suspected, he’s committed another sin altogether. And Moray’s hands are tied.”

Flanders shook his head. “He had no reason to suspect. Even Gerts couldn’t have understood what happened between us. And four years have passed since I laid eyes on her."

"It matters not. She was yer woman and Stephan killed her. An act of war in anyone’s eyes.”

“So, I may go?”

Robert nodded. "Aye. We go." He gestured toward Mael still wringing his hands just inside the war room. “We two and the spy, so he can show us his path to the fort. We’ll find the sister, bring her to safety—along with Gerts, if she still lives. And then we deal with the Rat.”

Flanders frowned. “Now that I’m thinkin’ clearly, ye should stay behind.”

“And let ye have all the fun?” Robert shook his head.

“If we’re both taken?—”

“Then I’ll trust Todlaw to bring us home. And pity Stephan if my father hears of it.” He clapped Flanders on the back. “Now quit thinkin’ so hard and get in the saddle. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

Flanders smirked. "I hope James Duncan never finds out what a terrible influence he’s been on us."

"Aye, well, we shall lay that at his feet if we ever see him again.”